I move without any thought behind it, getting up in his face, jamming his body against the bar.
“Speak to her like that again and I’ll put you through a fucking window, yeah?”
A small hand wraps around my elbow. “Mason.” Brooke tugs my arm, but I keep the bastard pinned.
Just knowing he’s been with Brooke is enough to provoke me. Hearing him speak to her like that . . . I’m not a violent guy, but I’m suddenly feeling like I could be. I could beat the piss out of this wanker and not feel any remorse. Not a shred.
His head rolls left, then right, his eyes slowly drifting closed. “Mm. Hit me. Go ahead. I-I don’t give a s-shit.”
He’s slurring his words now. He can barely stand.
I don’t need to hit him.
I swiftly back away. He isn’t expecting that. Eyes wide, his feet slide out from under him and he collapses into a drunken heap on the floor, limbs sprawled like a rag doll, head slumped back against the bar. His eyes pinch shut through a groan, then he slowly topples over until he’s laid out between the stools.
A big bloke moves through the crowd and steps in front of me, crouching down to grab Paul.
“Let’s go, buddy. You’ve been cut off.”
I turn to Brooke, then notice the eyes on us, the crowd that’s gathered behind her who I’m certain heard every bit of that conversation, including the cruel words that fucker had to say. Brooke notices them too, her eyes darting quickly around the room, then dropping to a spot between us.
Her shoulders pull forward, and she lowers her head, hiding behind her hair. She suddenly appears smaller.
She’s embarrassed. Maybe a bit hurt. It’s hard to tell when I can’t see her face.
“Hey.” I lift her chin with my hand. “You all right?”
She hesitates for a second, just staring up at me through those impossibly thick lashes as she slowly exhales. Her hand gently presses against my hip. I slide a bit closer, moving my fingers along her jaw and just fucking stare at her.
Christ, she is quite possibly the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes on.
Her hair is falling out around her in dark curls, covering her delicate neck. She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve seen her in up until this point, but fuck, she doesn’t need it. The way she looked in my class the other day, her skin glowing from exertion, clean and sweaty, that Brooke has me.
Finally after taking in a deep breath, she nods slightly, just a jerk of her chin. “Yeah . . . yeah, I’m fine, but can we go? I’d really like that ride now.”
I grab her hand and we melt into the crowd.
Tipping my head in the direction of the table Brooke’s friends are at, I let them know we’re getting out of here while she stays close to my side. It’s a brief farewell. Brooke tugging on my hand has me getting her out of there before any of them have a chance to ask us what happened. She clearly doesn’t want to linger. I’m not interested in making her stay. Besides, I’d rather have her alone.
We’re out the door, her small hand in mine as we walk along the footpath. The sky is free of clouds, a clear blue scene speckled with stars and a bold moon hanging low.
Brooke pulls her hand back after a few seconds and wraps her arms around herself.
“Are you cold?” I ask.
The air has a slight chill to it, but I think it’s tolerable. She’s not wearing much, though. Her arms could be cold.
She shakes her head, keeping her gaze in front of her.
“I’m just up here on the left.” I tug my keys from my pocket. “The white Denali.”
“Asshole.”
“What’s that?” I turn my head, staring at her rigid profile.
“That guy. Paul. Calling me a whore because I only wanted to hook-up with him.” She breathes a laugh. “Seriously? It’s a fucking double standard. Just because I’m a woman who loves sex I’m automatically labeled a whore? What about men?”
I open the passenger door for her and she climbs inside, securing her seatbelt.
“Men can fuck anything with a pulse and women will actually find that attractive. The whole player vibe. It’s hot. It gets them so much ass,” she continues after I get in on the driver’s side. “But if a woman enjoys sex and goes out to get laid, she’s a whore. Why? What the hell is the difference?”
I run a hand through my hair after starting up the car. My fingers quickly dial down the volume on the stereo. I only want to hear her.
“Well?” She angles her body in the seat, waiting for my response.
I rub my jaw. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to answer that question, Brooke.”
“Why not? You’re a man.”
“Yeah, but I’m not running around sticking my cock into everything with a pulse.” I catch her smile as I glance over before pulling out onto the street. “I think you’re right, though. You should be able to do what or who you want.”
“Exactly.”
“He was wrong . . . saying that to you. I’m sorry that happened.”
I’m sorry I didn’t knock him on his arse before he said it a second time.